


In Washington Heights

by byoomgothegunboi



Series: The Washington Heights Project [4]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda, In the Heights - Miranda/Hudes
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, and basically all the characters, and more - Freeform, you get the drift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-27 08:10:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21388918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/byoomgothegunboi/pseuds/byoomgothegunboi
Summary: No one:Absolutely nobody:I assure you, not a single soul:Me: So should I finish the Washington Heights Project*Four years after a metaphorical (and literal) hurricane swept through the barrio, life goes on. How the residents have fared are for themselves to know and for you to, well, to read and find out.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens, Benny/Nina Rosario, George Washington/Martha Washington, Graffiti Pete/Sonny, John Laurens/Usnavi
Series: The Washington Heights Project [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/763062
Comments: 28
Kudos: 32





	1. Nina and Benny

**Author's Note:**

> I'd be genuinely surprised to hear that anyone was a) expecting a conclusion to this story or b) even remembered this project exists. But here we are anyways lmao
> 
> We start with the Rosarios, Benny, and a moderately spicy stew.

#### Nina

“What comes next?”

“Whatever your heart tells you to do.”

“My heart tells me to keep stirring.”

Nina stirred the pot and her mother looked on approvingly, though whether she was nodding her head or just bouncing, it was hard to tell. 3-month-old Mia was tucked between her head and shoulder, sleeping soundly.

“You should taste it to see how it’s doing,” Camila offered, handing her a spoon.

Nina took it and sipped her broth tentatively.

“Could you pass the chilis?” She asked, and her mother smiled. 

“You truly are a Rosario,” she said, handing them over.

Nina grinned. Fact was, as of just under a year ago, she wasn’t.

She was a Washington.

Mia stirred drowsily and uttered the slightest of whimpers, prompting both of them to stop and watch her.

“Keep going,” her mom advised gently, stepping back to the kitchen door. “I’ll take care of her.”

Nina nodded and bid them a silent good-bye as they left, turning back to her pot.

Mia came somewhat unexpectedly after she married Benny, but it was a welcome surprise. Her mom, in addition, was quite possibly the most excited by the news that she would be an abuela. So much so that sometimes, she would need a gentle reminder that Nina was, in fact, the mom. Nina didn’t mind, though; her mother’s love was a blessing for her when she was trying to find a place for herself in the workforce.

Her first semester of sophomore year at Stanford, though rocky at first, went much better than her entire freshman year had gone. After some soul-searching she changed from a civil engineering major to political sciences, which certainly lightened the load. Without working jobs or worrying about money (and with a little help from Ricky), she was able to catch up on her credits in a year. Then she went further than that, realizing that the pace was manageable, and kept up with the class load (again, with a little help from Ricky, who realized she could stand to go a little faster, too). With a couple of summer classes (which Benny was surprisingly thrilled about, because it meant he could travel up to California for vacations) they ended up graduating a semester early. And for the record, Marlo the cactus grew to be four feet tall, last she’d seen him. She ended up landing an internship with a campaign manager early on back home, but it got put on hold when Mia came along. She had finally gone back a couple of weeks ago and things were more or less going smoothly.

She set the spoon down and lowered the heat on the stove to a simmer, sampling it briefly again. Her mom was teaching her how to cook, one of the few domestic skills she hadn’t gotten the hang of yet, so when she got home from work she would pack a bag for Mia and head over to the restaurant.

The place was a family business that they owned in a building a couple of streets up from the old dispatch. Her dad had bought it for their anniversary (with some help from Benny, even though he’d never admit that part) so that Camila could finally open her own restaurant. And open it, she did. The summer of Nina’s sophomore year, everybody she knew was there for the grand opening of Abuela’s. It quickly became a popular dinner spot for the barrio regulars as well as all of John’s and Usnavi’s old friends. One of them even worked there for a while and was a pretty good baker, except he was constantly sick so he usually just shared his recipes with the cooks. Now he was packing up to move back down South with his boyfriend, where the air was a bit cleaner.

Abuela’s was also the place Benny proposed to her the summer after her graduation. Her wedding had been like a dream come true. Vanessa and Angelica had planned most of it. Hercules tailored a dress for her and Dani and Carla took it upon themselves to do her hair and makeup. Benny’s vows were in Spanish and he only stumbled over them two or three times. He was his usual sweet self. It was perfect.

Camila came back in empty-handed and tasted the broth over her shoulder.

“Mmm. I think this is done.”

“Where’s Mia?” She asked.

“Benny came and took over. He’s in the office now.”

Benny and Kevin handled the finance side of the restaurant from an office in the back.

“Did you turn the stove off?”

“Yep,” Nina replied.

“Did you cover the pot?”

“Yep.”

“Did you take it off the heat?”

Nina hastily lifted the pot and set it on the other burner.

“...Yep.”

“Very good,” her mom said, smiling. “Now you let it sit. I’ll take over from here.”

“Thanks, mom.”

Her mom smiled again and scooted in front of her to pick up the pot. “Any time, mija. Now go and be a mom yourself.”

Nina nodded and slipped out of the kitchen, heading for the office.

Never had there ever been a more awkward baby holder than Benny. He held Mia like she was a sack of rice, half-slung over his shoulder while she clung to his shirt with her tiny hands and giggled at the ground. Benny was talking on the phone and doing this weird bouncy march thing and she had to suppress a laugh. She learned a while ago that no matter how awkwardly he held Mia, she was always safe in his arms.

“No, I’m gonna get the permit – you’ll be fine, Madison. I’ll take care of everything. Yes, I promise.”

Benny was nodding now as he strutted, making him look like a giant pigeon. Nina couldn’t hold her laugh in anymore.

Benny finally noticed her and grinned sheepishly.

“Look, I gotta go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Yes, okay. Say hi to Thomas for me. Bye.” He hung up, put the phone in his pocket, and bounced over to Nina, smiling.

“Hi, love.”

“Hello,” she giggled, giving him a quick peck on the mouth. “I came to check in on Mia, but it looks like she’s doing fine.”

“Yep, we’re all good here,” Benny replied, now bouncing in place. Nina went around him to see her baby’s smiling face.

“_Es cierto, Mia? Esta bien?_”

Mia cooed in response and waved around fistfuls of Benny’s shirt.

“Yeah, you’re happy here,” she confirmed, wiping a few curly strands of hair out of her face. “You love your dad’s bouncing, don’t you? Except you also love to drool all over his shirt.”

“Aw man, Mia,” Benny groaned, still bouncing. “That’s the third shirt today.”

“There’s another one in my bag, do you want it?”

“Nah,” Benny replied, shaking his head and bouncing all the while. “Nobody’s gonna see my back, anyway.”

“If you say so,” Nina replied, smiling and holding out her arms. “But I’m heading home now, so I’ll take her.”

Benny completed the handoff like she was a giant pressure-sensitive bomb, which made Nina laugh even more. But soon enough, her child was safely in her arms and Benny helped her put the baby bag over her shoulder.

“I should be a couple more hours, then I’ll be home,” he assured her. “There’s just a few more things I have to take care of.”

“Okay. I should get going, I have some work I have to do when I get home, too.”

“I’m so proud of you,” he murmured, kissing her forehead. “Getting stuff done. You’re gonna be the best councilwoman on this side of the GWB.”

“There’s only one of those,” Nina retorted. “And I’m hoping to get a little further than that before I’m done working.”

Benny smiled. “I know. But the barrio is always gonna be your home. We’ve claimed you already, you know. There’s no getting rid of us.”

“Good.”

Nina grinned and Mia babbled something along the lines of “let’s get a move on, lovebirds.”

Yes, Washington Heights would always be her home. It’s where she grew up, and it’s where her family would always be. These streets taught her everything she needed to know, about love and family and unconditional support. Things were different now that she moved back home, though. Her role had changed. Now SHE was the mom, the tía, the one kids like Mia and little Theo and Adrienne’s kid Georges would look up to. One day in the future, she would even be the Abuela Claudia they never got to meet. She would teach them that family always had their back, that there’s so much more to learn from school than counting and spelling, and that you can love somebody even when they’re not there. They would grow up to be leaders, and to be lovers, and to be fearless in going after what they wanted. They would graduate knowing everything they needed to know and be prepared to teach whatever children came next. Nina knew this because _she_ was ready. She knew this because these streets, and these people, had more than prepared her for it.

“I love you. I’ll see you later.”

Benny gave her another peck on the cheek, stroking Mia’s head affectionately. “I love you too.”

With one last smile, Nina turned and headed for home.

#### Benny

“‘Afternoon, Benny.”

“‘Afternoon, Abuelo.”

Kevin Rosario took a seat at his desk, which was right next to Benny’s, gave him a tight smile, and got right to work.

He would always be a tough nut to crack, Benny’s father-in-law. But he was definitely warming up. He had given Benny his blessing to marry Nina in two words (okay, fine) after Benny had planned an entire persuasive speech. Mia being born was a real turning point. It was the first time Benny had ever seen Kevin Rosario cry. And after that moment, he insisted everybody call him abuelo.

“Do you know how to make this thing bigger?” He asked, staring intently at his computer screen.

Benny had to hold back a chuckle as he went over and showed him how to zoom in on the web page. Then, after complaining he couldn’t read the whole thing anymore, he showed him how to scroll left and right to see it all.

“Thank you. One day I’m going to master this godforsaken thing.”

“No problem,” Benny replied.

There was another period of silence before Kevin spoke again.

“What is a ‘lol?’ And why is Usnavi using it so much?”

Benny couldn’t help but laugh this time as he stood up and walked back over to his computer. “LOL is an acronym. It means ‘laugh out loud.’ See, wherever he’s using it, imagine him laughing there.”

Kevin frowned as he read the letter. “Usnavi’s laughing a lot for an e-mail about vegetable shipments.”

“Well, you know Usnavi.”

His frown turned into a smile as he sat back in his chair. “That guy is just way too happy for his own good. Him and John both.”

“Tell me about it,” Benny replied, heading back to his desk.

That was another thing Kevin had learned along the way: that guys could date guys, and girls could date girls. He was never really opposed to the concept, per se, but he definitely had to learn that it was a normal thing. Well, perhaps it wasn’t learning as much as it was sheer exposure. After John came out as gay and Usnavi announced they were dating, Sonny, too, decided to make it clear to the Rosarios that he was dating Pete. Then, whether by coincidence or not, Nina came home for a visit the very next weekend and brought along her roommate Ricky, who promptly informed them all she was a lesbian.

Camila, of course, nodded right away and then offered her some soup. Kevin, besides being baffled by the onslaught of revelations, took it surprisingly well. Everyone loved the De La Vegas like they would their own family, and it was impossible to not be happy for them. And Ricky was simply smarter than everyone else. Benny had a feeling Kevin couldn’t doubt her if he tried.

And so, slowly, he came around to the whole matter. When James, who was employed as a baker for the restaurant, introduced them all to his boyfriend Thomas, he offered them both some soup and told Thomas was welcome to stop by the restaurant any time.

_Speaking of Madison,_ Benny thought, finding a file on his computer titled ‘Vendor Permit.’ James and Thomas were moving to South Carolina in the coming winter, and James had informed him that there was an opening in an old strip mall there where a bakery had shut down. He had inquired about expanding the Abuela’s franchise. Benny could envision Abuela’s Panadería, run by the baker who helped make the original restaurant so great.

They worked for a while in silence on their respective things. Kevin was the general manager of the restaurant and also their resident handyman. Benny handled most of the money and legal stuff.

“Benny?”

“Hm?”

Kevin was staring at the wall pensively as he responded. “What if we got Pete in here to do some interior painting?”

“That’s a great idea,” Benny replied, checking through some papers scattered haphazardly around his desk. “Actually, I think we have some unused funds somewhere to pay for it.”

“Let’s do it. These walls could use some color.”

“Sounds good. I’ll let him know the next time I see him.”

Kevin nodded and went back to squinting at his computer monitor.

“I think I’m gonna take off,” Benny said, standing and stretching. His watch indicated that it was nearly seven o’clock, which meant Nina had to be close to be done with her work.

“Okay. Say hi to Mia for me, now.”

“‘Course. And I’ll let Usnavi know about Pete, if I can find him. It would be great if we can do this whole thing before Sonny gets back home.”

He was returning from his junior year at Stony Brook University in three days and even now, everyone was getting excited for it. Usnavi was always busy planning his annual back-home ‘surprise party’ wherein no one, not even Sonny, was surprised. Nina, too, was making everyone get him little gifts like it was his birthday. The whole barrio adored him.

“Good idea. See you tomorrow, Benny.” Kevin Rosario bid him goodbye as he headed to the door.

“Bye, Abuelo.”

Benny turned and walked out, smiling to himself because Abuelo still sounded silly in his head. Perhaps when everyone started calling Abuela Claudia ‘Abuela’ it was weird at first, too. Maybe one day everyone in the neighborhood would be calling him and Nina ‘Abuelos.’

_Times really do change,_ he thought as he walked out into the streets. He decided to call a taxi to the bodega to see if he could find Usnavi before going home. The yellow car pulled up and Benny couldn’t help but chuckle at the ‘District of New Jersey’ decal on the window.

Uptown Investments had taken over the Rosarios’ old dispatch and had promptly been choked out by locals on all sides. Needless to say, they hardly even lasted six months. All their taxi cabs had been relocated to other dispatches and the building was abandoned. It was now nothing more than a giant pirate ship in the imagination of the kids who played on the street.

As Benny looked out through the taxi window, the buildings opened up and the late afternoon sun glistened off a giant metal structure.

The George Washington Bridge.

They turned down a street and it seemed to grow taller than all the buildings around him, gleaming gold like a giant monument.

_Of course it would happen to you, G-Wash,_ Benny thought, smiling to himself. _You were two weeks old and you got a bridge named after you. I own one restaurant and possibly another in a couple of months and dad won’t even text me back._

Not only did his brother get a bridge in his name from their father, who was an uber-rich landowner uptown, but he got a mural on the grate next to Abuela Claudia’s (courtesy of Pete) and they were building him a giant monument in DC.

_The damn bastard was always the favorite child._ Benny chuckled to himself. He had long since made peace with his brother, and Nina was right: anything they’d had to fight about seemed improbably petty now. Though there would always be a twinge of regret in him, George wouldn’t have wanted him to hurt. His brother loved him as much as Benny loved his brother. All there was left to do now was keep him in his heart and make sure not to make the same mistake again.

And tease him while he couldn’t get Benny back.

_You know what’s fitting, G-Wash?_ Benny thought, grinning up at the bridge. _They’re designing your monument in DC to look like a giant dick._

Maybe he had developed phone-tuition, or its higher equivalent. Maybe it was just wishful thinking. In any case, he could’ve sworn that wherever his brother was, he heard the remark and flipped him off.

“Bodega’s closed,” the cab driver told him, pulling up to the curb. The grate was down and Abuela Claudia was beaming at them from her mural. “You wanna stop somewhere else?”

“Nah,” Benny replied, getting out his wallet. “This is good. I probably need the exercise.”

After paying the driver and watching him drive off, Benny looked back up at the GWB. The sun hit it straight-on, making the entire structure gleam a bright, blinding white light.

“Ow,” Benny muttered, looking away. “Goddammit, G-Wash.”

He smiled to himself, smiled to his brother, and then turned and headed back to see his family.


	2. Vanessa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We continue with a look into the lives of the salon girls - plus some new old recruits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: this story is stored as a giant doc on my computer aptly titled "World's Worst Slime Recipe"

#### Vanessa

Vanessa was squished in the subway between two very large men.

One was a construction worker on his way back home from a night shift somewhere. Or at least, that’s what she could discern if the way he smelled was any indication.

The other, to his credit, was one of those guys who knew he was big but didn’t quite know how to deal with that, coping by slouching into himself. At least he was polite and apologized every time the train car jostled and he accidentally bumped her. And his smell was much less offensive.

Such was the morning commute to work on Tuesdays and Thursdays. She was still working part-time for the Salon in the Bronx because, well, she found it hard to leave her sisters. The subway ride, thought unpleasant at times, was hit-or-miss. On Sundays she worked the night shift for a restaurant closer to home, just for a bit of extra revenue.

Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays were class days. She and Angelica were taking courses at the community college down the street, both in law and political sciences. The end goal for her was a job that offered a little more benefit than the Salon (not that she was ungrateful, but a life cutting hair just wasn’t her cup of tea) and there was a secretary position that had recently opened up in the mayor’s office. Her employer had just recently gotten back to her about it, and it was hers once she had her Associate’s Degree.

It really helped to have a friend in the whole process. Angelica had the exact same class schedule. Her end goal was the only thing different – in her words, “When I’m yelling at bigoted uneducated assholes on the street, I just wanna know what the fuck I’m yelling about.”

And so they went for three classes, three times a week, calling out all the catcallers on the way there. It was by far the best commute she made all week, even if it was the longest. When Nina was around for the summer, they would brave the heat and take a stroll to the salon, eating piragua and trying not to spit it out as Nina recounted her college misadventures.

The subway car slowed to a halt at her stop and she squeezed her way up, pulling her purse free from its almost completely-submerged position under construction guy’s ass. She made a mental note to Febreze it when she got home.

The early morning crowd carried her up and out of the underground and into the humid New York streets. The Salon was just a short walk away, but when she got there she was already nearly sweating. It was a wonder how summer mornings managed to be so stifling.

She walked in on a strange sight indeed: four women were all crowded in on one chair, lit solely by the stall lighting. One woman she recognized as Daniela wielded her scissors menacingly at the chair’s poor occupant, whose face was blocked from view.

“Yo, what’s going on here?”

Angelica straightened and flashed a smile at her. “Just a little interrogation.” She spun the chair around and Vanessa was met with the mildly terrified face of one of her clients.

“Will! Oh, god, I hoped they wouldn’t get to you, I’m so sorry.”

Will smiled tentatively, still plastered to the chair like he was bound to it somehow.

“We just wanted to make sure he was good for you, Vanessa,” Carla argued, eyes wide. “Not just anyone can go out on a date with our girl.”

“Y’know, this is probably why most of them don’t text me back,” she replied, glaring at Daniela. She shrugged. “Don’t blame me. It’s all the better for you, in the long run.”

“Whatever- wait, Peggy? Really? You’re in on this too?”

Peggy raised her hands in surrender, a moot point considering she still held an industrial-grade hair trimmer in one hand.

“Okay, sorry. But they were doing an interrogation and I couldn’t resist.”

Vanessa rolled her eyes and sighed. “Go on, you’re free, Will. Unless you’re chained to the chair.”

Will stood up and smiled shyly at his captors. “Uh- well, good to see you, ladies,” he stammered, backing away. “Thanks for – um… the words of wisdom.”

Vanessa caught his arm before he could bolt out of there. “I’m sorry about that. I hope it wasn’t too traumatizing for you.”

Will just smiled and shook his head. “All these obstacles just prove how lucky I am to be going out with you. I’ll see you tonight.”

He walked out, leaving the room speechless.

“I like him,” Peggy finally declared, putting the trimmer down.

Vanessa smiled at the door, still staring after him.

“Me too,” she finally agreed.

“I think he talks way too much about books, but I guess he could be worse,” Daniela pointed out.

Will was Vanessa’s regular client who was a high school English teacher. He always talked about books and characters when she cut his hair until he finally admitted he had come in for a haircut so often to build up the courage to ask Vanessa out. And Vanessa had accepted. Will, nerdiness and really short hair aside (Vanessa took the blame for that one), was really cute.

And holy _fuck,_ could he dance.

“Okay, enough about my love life,” Vanessa said, changing the subject. “What’s new around here? Tell me something I don’t know.”

By the look in Daniela’s eye, she knew they would be talking for a while.

“Well, you didn’t hear it from me,” she started, with a tone that indicated that everyone within a mile radius of the salon had in fact already heard it from her, “but it’s going around that Adrienne and Lafayette are trying to have another child.”

“That’s great!” Angelica exclaimed. “How did you know? Does Adrienne get her hair cut here now?”

“No,” Daniela replied, smirking. “They moved into the apartment above us.”

“They’re very… vocal,” Carla added, eyes wide.

Peggy just rolled her eyes. “Ten bucks says Lafayette was the one you were hearing.”

_“Peggy,”_ Angelica scolded.

Vanessa laughed. “Good for them, though. Georges could use a little brother or sister, someone else to talk French to besides Usnavi.”

Angelica chuckled. “Poor guy, every time they go into the store he’s babbling away like Usnavi’s his personal diary.”

“You can tell Usnavi loves it, though,” Peggy added, shrugging. “I swear sometimes they’re talking shit about all the rest of us.”

Usnavi was definitely the favorite uncle of Lafayette’s and Adrienne’s three-year-old since he discovered talking, and especially since he discovered Usnavi could talk back in the same language his mom and dad used. If the family hadn’t moved into their apartment in the Bronx, Vanessa swore he would’ve grown up in the bodega just talking Usnavi’s ear off.

“Wait a minute,” she realized. “How did they get an apartment in your place? Didn’t Julio live above you?”

Daniela smiled and cocked her hip. “He moved out,” she answered simply.

The look in her eye indicated that was not the end of the story. Sure enough, after a bit of silence:

“Ask her why he moved out,” Carla spoke up, smiling.

Angelica shook her head, already accustomed to this salon routine. “Why?”

Daniela’s smile got wider and she cast a sweeping glance around the store as if to ensure nobody was eavesdropping on them. “He and Jose got married last week,” she whispered dramatically.

“WHAT?”

“I know! I heard it personally through Yesenia. She said they eloped out of the blue and went up to Albany to make it official.”

“God damn. Did you know they were that serious?” Vanessa asked.

“No, but such are the mysteries of love.”

“Oh,” Carla piped up, raising her hand. “I have news, too.”

Daniela raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“I have a date tomorrow night,” she said proudly.

“WHAT?”

“INTERROGATION TIME!”

Angelica and Peggy had both reacted at the same time.

_“Con quien?”_ Daniela demanded.

“Yolanda!”

“And you were gonna tell us this when?” asked Vanessa.

“Well, I was waiting for Nina to come back, because she was the one who kinda set us up,” Carla responded. “But we were on the subject of relationships, so I figured this was a good a time as any.”

Yolanda was one of Carla’s clients that stayed with the salon even after their move to the Bronx. Carla constantly tried to make a move with her, but Yolanda never really took the hint. Vanessa understood why; poor Carla was so sweet that her attempts at flirting just sounded like genuine compliments.

“Awww,” Angelica cooed, giving her a quick hug. “That’s great, Carla!”

Daniela did the same soon after. “First Vanessa with her date, and our two French neighbors, Jose and Julio, and now our very own Carla. Looks like love is in the air.”

“Speakin’ of which,” Peggy spoke up, grinning at her. “I went to the tailor’s today.”

“Oh?” she replied, raising an eyebrow and trying not to appear too interested.

Peggy had been going back and forth with Daniela about some tailor in the Heights who was making her a dress. Lately she’d also been trying to set them up, and Vanessa didn’t know how Peggy had managed, but for the first time in a while Daniela was up for it.

“He asked when’s a good time for you to come pick it up. He also needs a couple measurements from you, I wrote them down for you here.” She picked out a little piece of paper from her jeans pocket and put it on the counter.

Daniela smiled. “Then I’ll get them back to you as soon as I can. And about when I’m free…” she smirked. “Tell him I’m extremely flexible.”

This was met with a chorus of “ooooo’s” from the girls in the salon. Vanessa giggled at the prospect of Daniela finally meeting up with this guy. As much sass as she gave them all on the daily, Dani took care of them all and it was nice to see her doing something for herself for once.

Peggy waggled her eyebrows and grinned back. “I’ll give him those exact words.”

The five of them continued their chat well into the day, through the haircuts and shampoos and makeovers their clients came in for. There was something therapeutic about just being with these girls and talking about whatever came up while the hum of a hair trimmer buzzed in the background. As much as she complained about the city, Vanessa wouldn’t trade this for the world.

The late afternoon was spent lounging around with tiny handheld fans as the oppressive heat floated through in waves. By closing time, Vanessa’s hair, which had long since been pulled back into a ponytail, stuck to her back and shoulders from the beads of sweat accumulated there.

“I know I say this every summer,” Vanessa said, watching Daniela close and lock the doors, “but _God,_ I can’t wait for winter.”

“But then every winter,” Carla pointed out, “you say the same thing about summer.”

“THIS time, though,” Angelica argued, “you might have enough to afford a heating unit by the time it gets cold out.”

Daniela turned and raised an eyebrow. “After four years of the same thing? What makes you say that?”

She and Peggy looked at each other and grinned. “Let’s just say… the Schuylers are not too shabby at managing their money. And if we’re gonna be spending all of our time here… well, we might as well do our part to make it comfortable, right?”

Daniela’s expression went from suspicious to shocked and Carla gasped.

“You’d really do that for us?” she asked, wide-eyed.

“Pegs and I were talking the other day and realized that we never really thanked you,” Angelica replied, “for being so good to us. Going through that whole thing with Usnavi was weird, but it must’ve been even harder for you all, having so many people come in and invade your lives. But we never once felt like outsiders. From day one, we felt welcome.”

“I mean, I’ve never worked a day in my life, and you still gave me a chance here,” Peggy added. “And Angie finally found someone _else_ to talk politics with, thank God.” She looked straight at Vanessa and grinned. “Growing up with sisters is like being born with built-in friends. Which is cool and all, until you get sick of them. But even then, sometimes it’s hard to put yourself through the effort of making friends when you know you’ve got the best ones at home, y’know? Especially when Eliza died, I found it so easy to just close myself off from other people because there was someone right there that knew exactly what I was going through. And I’m sure Ang can say the same.”

Angelica nodded.

“But it’s never been hard here, to talk to you guys. Even when we felt like we were in the middle of a James Bond movie with agents running all over the place, I never found myself wanting to be somewhere else. It’s like… everyone here is family. It’s a nice feeling.”

Daniela smiled. Carla looked as if she was about to cry.

“Aww, guys,” she said, bringing them in for a hug.

Daniela joined in, and after a moment, so did Vanessa.

“We love that you’re here,” Carla continued after they broke apart. “And I hope you feel like you’re _always_ welcome with us, because you really are. No payment necessary.”

“Woah, woah, Carla,” Daniela cut in, “If the women want to buy us an AC, who are we to tell them no?”

Vanessa laughed along with the sisters, and the three of them pulled the grate down over the salon. Once the whole thing was secured with a final lock, Daniela and Carla shouldered their purses and the five of them parted ways: Daniela and Carla to their apartment, and the other three down to the train station.

By the time they reached the stairs down to the tracks, Vanessa was sweating more than a McDonald’s fry cook in charge of serving Gordon Ramsay. “This is disgusting,” she groaned, wrinkling her nose. “My date with Will is in an hour, and if it’s not cooler by then, I’m suing the state of New York.”

“Well if the man can’t handle you at your sweatiest, he doesn’t deserve you,” Angelica pointed out.

“Honestly,” Vanessa agreed, sighing in relief at the rush of cool air they encountered upon entering the underground station. “I don’t even feel like getting ready. You think he’d dump me on the spot if I showed up like this?”

“Okay, now that’s pushing it a little,” replied Peggy, smirking. “But hey, if you wanna get rid of him that bad, we aren’t gonna stop you.”

Vanessa laughed. “Actually, I kinda like this one. He’s restored my faith in the male dating pool, that’s for sure.”

They stopped at the point where they parted ways, cringing inwardly at the last guy who’d asked Vanessa out. He had apparently fell out of the Stupid tree and hit every branch on the way down.

“I think if this one doesn’t go well, it’s time to jump ship,” Angelica commented gravely. “Give the ladies a chance.”

“You’re probably right,” agreed Vanessa. “I dated this girl in high school, though, and she wasn’t much better.”

“You just got a bad egg,” said Peggy. “Girls don’t care if you sweat, they don’t care what size you are unless they’re buying you clothes, and they know how the fuck a vagina works. If guys have a dating pool, women have a dating _jacuzzi._”

“And besides,” Angelica added, grinning, “some of the girls on this side of town come from serious money. If all else fails, you can at least date someone who’ll pay for AC in your apartment.”

Vanessa raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you think you’re a little old for me?” she asked, smirking.

Angelica smiled wider and half-shrugged. “Who said I’m the only daughter of a rich guy?”

She turned to Peggy, who winked.

Vanessa giggled. “I’ll keep that in mind. Now go home, before you make me miss my train and then you’re REALLY my only option.”

She bid the Schuylers farewell and headed to her platform, which was mercifully empty. The display showed three minutes until the train arrived, so she took a seat on an open bench.

It didn’t seem real that four years ago she could only dream of getting out of the barrio, escaping a dead-end job and breaking a stifling routine. If someone had told her then that she would end up here, with an apartment she could actually live in, a promising job on the horizon, and people who loved her, she’d probably slap them in the face for giving her that much hope. Looking back on those times now, though, made her smile. Being stuck in the ghetto gave her Nina, a friend she was positive she’d have until the end of time. It gave her Usnavi and a free coffee every day. It gave her a daily dose of steaming hot gossip from her two coworkers-turned-family at the Salon. Now that she was removed from it, the place seemed less suffocating and more just… small. Safe. Comfortable. Maybe it was just the prospect of being bigger and bolder that lured her out. Perhaps going back wouldn’t be so bad after all, if she gave it another shot…

She snorted and got to her feet as the train pulled up to the platform with a screech. There was no way in hell she was moving back. She was focused on moving _forward_, after all, and so far the change of pace was exhilarating. Vanessa smiled once more to herself before hopping on the elevated train and riding away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's a solid friendship without some good old Gay Banter?


	3. Pete and Sonny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moving on, we examine the world of a college student, his boyfriend, and quite a large expanse of wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst: Quite a nice epilogue you got going here
> 
> Angst: Be a shame if someone came along and
> 
> Angst: Messed It Up

#### Pete

Pete watched a lot.

That was not to say he was idle; no, he was never bored. There were jobs to be done, walls to be painted, commissions to negotiate (which often meant MORE walls to be painted), shirts to design and ideas to be brought to life. And when Sonny was home for the winter and summer there was something new to do every day.

But when there was a break in the action, a lull in the program, Pete liked to escape to the roof of his apartment building through a removable screen on the top floor he had discovered one day while painting some furniture up there. And he sat and he watched.

He watched the cars and the people go by below him. He watched as the sky seemed to blow past him quickly and slowly at the same time. He watched until the colors of the people and the places and the sky bled into each other and the world became one ever-flowing body of motion.

And as he watched, his thoughts moved as fast as the world. He wondered if he blended in like the others when he walked down the street, or if he stuck out like a fish struggling upstream. He reasoned that maybe it wouldn’t be so terrible if he didn’t fit in. Sonny, for instance, didn’t blend in with the streets. If he walked through a room or down a street, Pete could pick him out like that. He was just a few shades brighter than everyone else. And he lingered, too: when he left his image stuck in Pete’s mind like slowly fading light trails after a subject is gone.

He liked to sit there at night, too, when the sun couldn’t beat directly down on him. The streets were emptier then, but the streetlights left the silhouette of the city visible. Situated above all the buildings, he could even see some stars sometimes. It helped on those nights where he couldn’t sleep because the nightmares came again and Sonny wasn’t there to hold him.

They’d warned of it, right before he left the hospital. Being conscious during major surgery, they said, left scars that were often more psychological than physical, and especially with what Pete went through to get to the hospital in the first place, he might be at risk. They offered therapy for it, which Pete took without really knowing the full extent of the problem. But when it hit that first time, he woke up shaking and drenched in sweat and he went straight to the De la Vega apartment and even in the arms of Sonny, listening to his calming breaths, he couldn’t fall back asleep.

The nightmare was more or less the same every time it came. He was strapped naked to a white table, with a blinding sterile light beaming down on him. Doctors and nurses carried on their business around him and suddenly there was a surgeon in front of him. He cut straight into his stomach and Pete couldn’t move as the pain took over his senses and he felt the warm, thick blood on his skin. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t scream. His eyes stuck in place staring at the doctor’s face. Everything on it was covered in sterile cloth except for the eyes.

They were his dad’s eyes.

With the exception of that last detail, everything was pretty much as described by the therapist. Every session, they talked through what little fear he had of hospitals and then he went on his merry way. Pete could handle pain, and blood, and knives. It was the eyes that really haunted him.

It was getting better, though. The dream was recurring less and less. When it did happen, Pete would go up to the roof and stare at the sky until the shaking went away and he could sleep again.

And in the meantime, he watched.

Pete wasn’t watching today, though. He hadn’t watched anything all week because he was in that one brief period of nervous energy where he needed to do something at all times or else the day would drag on and on and on to no end.

It was the last week of classes at SBU and Sonny was coming home in two days.

He shouldered his backpack and walked out of his apartment, locking the door behind him. 

Hercules’s tailor shop had taken over the building of the girls’ old salon, right next to the bodega. Pete worked there full-time, allowing him to stop taking odd jobs just to get by. He was still taking commissions, of course, but the steady source of income was a welcome change.

As soon as he clocked in, he caught wind of an argument going down in the printing room, as usual. He made his way back to find Peggy digging through her backpack and Hercules hovering over her.

“Can I paint it?”

“No.”

“Here. I brought these, just lemme show you how it looks-”

“Peggy-”

From her backpack emerged a can of spray paint, and as soon as it was pointed at a blank t-shirt, Peggy was wrapped in a literal Herculean bear hug as the larger man wrestled the can out of her hands.

“Why not?” she whined as he set her down. “This is a trend, you know. Spray-painted shirts. You have to stay ahead of the curve.”

Herc shoved a hand through his hair and sighed, turning for a moment to catch sight of Pete in the doorway. “Oh, hello, Pete. I was just showing Peggy the order of blank shirts that came in, and she decided to- PEGGY!”

With a quickness unnerving to anyone who didn’t know the girl, Peggy had taken advantage of Herc’s distraction and grabbed a second can of spray paint from her bag, aimed it at a shirt, and began to spray.

“Eugh! Ugh! The fumes!” Herc cried, fanning the air in front of his face.

“Oh, chillax. If Pete’s been painting his whole life, I think you can handle three paint strokes. Weren’t you in a war?”

“There weren’t any poisonous chemicals in the war,” Herc muttered, but let her finish the design.

“Y’know, spray paint wasn’t made for clothes.”

“The label says good for all surfaces including cloth,” Pete pointed out.

“Well, that’s an advertising ploy. The paint doesn’t stay. Look- like I’ve only told you a _hundred times,_ I’m gonna get a shirt printer, and then you can paint shirts to your hearts’ desires. The PROPER way. Okay?”

Pete nodded. Peggy groaned. “And when is THAT coming in?”

“I ordered it with the blank shirts, so it must be soon.”

“Your business is slowing down ‘cuz you’re waiting for a stupid shirt printer to make shirts, when this works just as well.” Peggy wielded the spray can and moved on to the next shirt.

“Okay, that’s enough-” Herc grabbed her again and threw her over his shoulder like a sack of flour, stooping down to pick up her spare paint can. You’re going back to the sales room. Give Pete the cans, he’ll probably make more use of them than you could.”

Peggy snorted and gave Pete a forlorn look. “You condone this? A deliberate bashing of creativity? I say this warrants a mutiny.”

Pete shrugged. “I think we should at least wait for the shirt printer to decide if we’re being oppressed. I think the boss has our best interests in mind.”

“Kiss-ass,” Peggy muttered under her breath. Pete tried to suppress a laugh as Peggy handed over the spray can, still halfway over Herc’s shoulder. Once he’d gotten hold of both of them, Hercules nodded and carried her out to the front. Pete heard an unceremonious _thump_ and he chuckled, following them out.

Most of the salon’s interior had remained the same, including a majority of the mirrors, and the only difference was a section of the back reserved for Herc’s measurements, sewing, and, of course, his soon-to-be shirt-coloring station. Various mannequins were laid about the sales floor, adorned with dresses and blouses of Pete’s and Herc’s designs.

“Oh, that reminds me.” Peggy spoke up again, glancing at a woman-shaped mannequin in the window. “I got your client’s measurements for you.”

That got Herc’s undivided attention, and she and Pete shared a glance at how fast he sat at his desk, procured a pen, and poised himself to take notes.

Peggy cleared her throat and pulled a folded-up note from her jeans pocket. “Shoulders, 35, chest, 33, waist, 29, hips, 38.”

He jotted them down and paused. “Really?”

“Yep.”

He made a few more notes and tried to hide how impressed he was. Peggy had been trying to set Herc up with this mystery woman by ordering her a dress, and every time they had exchanged notes (through Peggy, of course), Pete got more and more curious as to who it was. Peggy wouldn’t even tell _him,_ opting instead to laugh and say “you’ll see” every time he asked her.

“Oh- and tell her I need two more measurements: hips to armpit and calf to inner thigh.”

Peggy nodded, smirking. “Will do. She also answered your question about when to pick it up – she said she’s extremely flexible.”

Herc dropped his pen and practically dived under the desk to retrieve it. Peggy shared another look with Pete, who had to look away for fear of laughing at his boss.

Herc was back up and his dark skin only barely concealed the red in his cheeks. He cleared his throat and adjusted his beanie. Pete had never before seen him this flustered. If this woman could make him act like this now, he could only imagine what would go down if they met in person.

“I’ll leave you to making this woman’s dreams come true,” Peggy continued, stifling a laugh herself. “But I’m gonna take off. I came to paint shirts and was thoroughly disappointed, so there’s no point in me staying any longer.”

Hercules cleared his throat, still trying to regain composure. “Are you coming tomorrow? I’m stitching designs, and you can poke holes with those giant needles I have.”

“Sounds fun! Leave it for the afternoon, and I’ll be there. I work at the salon tomorrow morning,” she replied, retrieving her purse from one of the hands of the mannequins.

Herc nodded as she headed to the door. “Wait, Peggy-”

“Hm?”

“About the dress. Tell her I’ll give it to her as soon as she wants it.”

Peggy grinned again and winked. “Oh, I bet you will.”

With that, she was out.

Herc scratched his neck and glanced at Pete, who hastily busied himself with fixing the sleeves on one of the mannequins.

“We’re gonna pretend that didn’t happen,” he said.

Pete nodded in agreement.

Peggy worked part-time for Hercules, and by part-time she meant whenever the hell she wanted. The two shared an almost sibling-like relationship, with Peggy doing anything and everything she could to irritate him and Herc tolerating it all because, well, what else are you gonna do with Peggy. She had tried convincing Pete that the boss was harmless. But even as good of friends as they were, Pete wouldn’t dare join in on the taunting. Call it residual instincts of days on the streets, but he would always show respect to a man that could - quite literally - kill him with one hand.

So when Peggy wasn’t around, Pete worked mostly in silence, or to the sound of the old radio Herc had set up in the back room. Usually he sketched out ideas while Herc sewed, and every so often he would come over and suggest a few tweaks. Although he wasn’t keen to admit it at first, Pete found he liked designing clothes. There wasn’t much of a difference between helping a model bring themselves to life and telling a story with paint on a wall. Still, call him a fashionista and he’d punch you in the face (which Sonny had learned the hard way).

Usually he worked after hours, simply because he got so engrossed in his work that there was no choice but to finish it. Today, though, with all his restless energy he found himself glancing at the clock a full hour before closing time.

Herc had noticed the change, too. And Pete had worked at his shop long enough for him to know exactly what had caused it.

“When’s Sonny getting back, again?” he asked.

Pete put down his pencil, thankful for the distraction. “Two days.”

“Anything special planned?”

“Not much, besides Usnavi’s party.”

Herc nodded slowly.

“How long’ve you been together, anyway?”

“July makes four years,” Pete replied.

Herc whistled. “That’s… quite a while,” he commented.

Pete laughed and rubbed a hand over his head. “I know. Who would stay with me for such a long time?”

Herc snorted, setting down his own marker. “Someone who really loves you, that’s who.”

They fell into silence for a while as Pete pondered that comment. He supposed he did get pretty lucky with Sonny. He glanced at the time again.

“Why don’t you take off now?” Herc continued, nodding at the clock. “You’re obviously not gonna get much else done. Go find something to pass the time.”

“Oh, no, sorry, I’ll get back to work-” Pete started, but Herc chuckled and shook his head.

“I’m being serious. We got a lot done today, and I think I’m going to close up early anyway.”

Pete gave him a questioning look, and Herc nodded encouragingly.

“Thanks, man,” he finally conceded, getting up and packing away his pencils.

Herc smiled again. “Just do me a favor and stay outta trouble. I don’t need my one real employee getting into it with the authorities because he’s a bit restless, y’hear?”

Pete nodded, shouldering his backpack. “Got it. I never get into trouble, anyway.”

He grinned and walked out of the office, and he heard Herc’s voice follow him.

“Your criminal records say otherwise!”

Pete laughed and left the store, adjusting his backpack straps and hearing the rattle of spray cans inside.

Before the door had closed behind him, he had decided to go check out an alley wall a few blocks down that he had come across yesterday. He’d marked it a little, but there was so much space and so much time to fill. And, like his work in the tailor’s, painting made the time go by just a little bit faster.

He remembered there was another commission for him, too: Abuela’s restaurant needed their interior painted. But that would be simple, and it was difficult to plan out a room on a single piece of paper. That night when they closed he would go in and color it up.

He also had another commission for Nina and Sonny, who were working together on a community outreach center. They wanted a mural of a very pretty woman Pete had never seen before. He had sketched it out, but still couldn’t paint it because the wall where it went still hadn’t been erected. Usnavi often gazed affectionately at the old, boarded-up dispatch where the center was to be built. Pete had initially thought it was because Sonny had contributed so much to the barrio; in all honesty, he felt a rush of pride when anyone brought up his boyfriend’s work, too. But then one day Usnavi revealed that he was so happy because the center was going to be an extension of his wife’s orphanage. The woman he was painting was, in fact, his wife Eliza. Which confused Pete a little because Usnavi definitely didn’t have a wife and was DEFINITELY dating John. Still, it was sweet and wonderful and confirmed the fact that no matter how much he felt like he had a family here, Pete would never know what the fuck was going on in the barrio.

He reached the alley where the wall resided, sitting just around a corner. HIs footsteps echoed loudly even through the traffic behind him in the empty alley. They continued echoing until he turned the corner, caught sight of the wall, and stopped.

It was as if he had been plunged into darkness. The walls were painted over, on all three sides, in complete black. It was a bit of an overkill, considering he had pretty much wrote his initials on one wall. Whoever had covered it up was either a bit anal about matching walls or otherwise a complete asshole. They stretched up about twenty feet, effectively completing the illusion that he had just stepped into nighttime.

_Nighttime,_ he thought.

And perhaps it was from all the watching and all the wandering thoughts, but suddenly he had a vivid picture of what belonged on that wall. He dropped his backpack, pulled out a spray can, and got to work.

While he painted his mind drifted, as it was prone to do, to Sonny.

The last four years had been very kind to him. Senior year brought about college apps and financial aid applications and homework, and it meant he was busy a lot more than usual, but Pete didn’t mind just sitting in silence with him while he worked on it all. Then came acceptance to Stony Brook University, which prompted a party from the barrio and a much more intimate celebration, so to speak, with Pete. And once he had graduated, they had an entire summer with no jobs or school or work to worry about (except, of course, for Pete’s commissions, which he didn’t really count because Sonny was always with him) and it was the best three months they’d ever had together.

And then Sonny went away and, as usual, made himself right at home wherever he was. Every time they talked it seemed he had joined a new club or was working on some new project or was at another party. And Pete was sincerely glad that he was making the most of it all (as was Usnavi, who, as he said, was “paying out the ass” for him to go there), but he was worried by the fact that Sonny almost seemed disappointed at the change of pace when he came back. He said finals had just taken a lot out of him, and it was true that he was back to his usual cheery self within a few days, but the thought never really went away.

The next two years only seemed to get better for him. He ran for VP of the LGBTQ+ club at SBU as a sophomore and got the position. He worked on community projects that even Pete could tell from phone conversations made him genuinely happy. He teamed up with Nina to develop Eliza’s community outreach center in the barrio and mentioned he could’ve started another location, but it meant he would’ve had to stay around school over the summer.

“Why can’t you do that?” Pete had asked.

“Because,” Sonny had replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Then I wouldn’t get to see you.”

The honesty and sweetness of the sentence should’ve made him smile, and in any other context he would have. But the only thing he felt was guilt.

He grappled with it all summer when Sonny did come home and did see him and did make him smile because he was Sonny and that’s what he did. They explored the barrio and painted shit and did a fair amount of kissing, but when they said goodnight and parted ways (which, miraculously, was not every night because Usnavi had allowed his cousin to sleep at Pete’s once a week), he was faced with the thought he’d been trying to ignore since they’d started dating.

Sonny could’ve done so much with the world if he hadn’t fallen in love with him.

And at that summer’s end he had finally decided to right that wrong, as much as it pained him. Because Sonny deserved everything he could possibly get.

“Sonny?” He said on one of those last nights, when they were sitting up on the roof of Pete’s apartment and watching the city.

“Hm?” he replied drowsily, his head on Pete’s shoulder.

Silence.

“If…”

The singular syllable hung between them for a long while until Sonny finally lifted his head and looked him straight in the eyes.

“If you… wanted to be more - to do more, than what you’re doing now… because you can, I don’t want… I don’t want to be the one to hold you back.”

He remembered the look of his eyes in the streetlight as be blinked slowly in response. He remembered taking it in because he thought it would be the last time he would get to see it like that.

“What are you saying?” Sonny asked, so soft it wounded like a whisper.

Pete took a big breath because he hadn’t been expecting to speak again so soon and the words were caught behind the lump in his throat.

“Don’t let me be the reason you don’t do what you want to do. If you find… something else, or someone-”

“No. No no no no,” Sonny interjected, shaking his head quickly. “No, Pete, don’t talk like that.”

“I have to,” he replied. “Because it’s true. What if you get another chance to do something somewhere else and you can’t because-”

“Because it’s my CHOICE?” Sonny interrupted again, louder this time. “You’re not holding me back. If something came up and I refused it because it kept me away from you, it’s because I love you and you’re more important. It’s because I look at who I am and who I want to be and I don’t see some big-shot project at the other end of the city, I see you and me together, here.”

He took Pete’s hand in both of his, meeting his gaze earnestly. “I’m not leaving you, Pete. I’m not leaving as long as you’re here to come back to. That’s a _promise,_ okay?”

Pete nodded, unable to speak.

He left the next afternoon with a smile and his usual “I’ll see you soon,” but this time the look lingered, as if he was making it a point.

And sure enough, he was back for Thanksgiving, which he hadn’t done any of the two years previous. When Christmas break came around, Sonny arrived sooner than usual and made a beeline for Pete’s apartment, suitcase and all. He insisted that all he’d missed was his LGBTQ+ Club’s Christmas party, but even that was bad in and of itself, considering he was the operating VP again. And when he left for his last semester of Junior year, it was two hours before his first class and he had to rush off without a proper goodbye.

Despite all that, he still managed to do great things. His first semester GPA was a 3.5, which was stellar considering all the things he did on the side. He organized a Thanksgiving canned food drive for the school and brought it all to Usnavi’s wife’s orphanage. When the president of the LGBTQ+ Club stepped down, Sonny was unanimously elected to fill their place.

Pete paused with his finger on the nozzle, looking up at what he’d done. He lowered the can and stepped back, taking it in.

It wasn’t extraordinarily intricate, or even completely finished. The top part of the wall he’d have to do later, when he could climb up there without being too distracted - it was pretty far up and it would hurt like a bitch if he fell. But he could see clearly what he would fill the space with.

He tilted his head.

Sonny made him think of things he’d otherwise never even imagined. He had that effect on people - they were changed for the better. He made them more understanding, and more compassionate, and more responsible. He’d seen it happen to the people he met on the street. He could only imagine how Sonny was changing the lives of the people at SBU, the ones who could take that change and turn it to the world. And if Sonny was doing this much now, he could only imagine what he could do if there was nothing holding him back.

_I’m not leaving as long as you’re here to come back to._

He tilted his head the other way.

He blinked twice at the wall.

He knew what he had to do.

The walk home seemed shorter now that he had a plan racing through his head. He got there, unlocked the door, and immediately dropped his backpack and emptied the plethora of spray paint cans onto the already color-stained carpet. Scanning the room for anything of value, his eyes stopped on the pile of canvases next to his futon-bed.

They’d been a Christmas gift from Benny, who wasn’t entirely aware of the fact that he much preferred painting on walls. Pete was thankful for it, though, and had filled them all up, planning to give them out as gifts for both him and other people for their birthdays and such. He sorted through them, placing the ones that seemed sellable carefully into his backpack and tossing the ones with specific faces on them aside. He came to the one he’d painted for Sonny and stopped again.

It was the city at sunset, with miniscule people dancing in the orange light of the streets. Pete saw his own and Sonny’s silhouettes pressed together, dancing in the middle of them all, sticking out only if you really knew what you were looking for.

He swallowed thickly and put it in his backpack.

He went around, shoving more items in. There were bits and pieces of old jewelry, including his dad’s old ring he really hadn’t known what to do with, never-worn dress shirts, a leather jacket that didn’t fit him anymore, and a couple of books he never read. He picked up a chunk of asphalt from his makeshift bookshelf. It had been a gift from Sonny two years ago, and Pete still remembered how he’d gotten it.

_They were walking down the street one day when Sonny abruptly stopped and bent over, causing Pete to nearly run into him._

_“Dude, what the fuck?”_

_“Look at this,” said Sonny, straightening and holding up a good-sized chunk of the street that had cracked off while they repaved it._

_“What?”_

_“It’s… pretty.” A small portion of the rock was jet-black and iridescent, reflecting a faint array of colors as Sonny tilted it back and forth. On the top and sides, it was rough and crumbly and, well-_

_“It’s a chunk of asphalt,” Pete replied dully._

_“Yeah, it is,” Sonny argued, holding it close to his chest and examining it as if it were a precious jewel. “But that doesn’t mean it can’t be worth something. People see it for what it comes from - a chunk of road, dirty and useless. It’s… like you.”_

_Pete looked from the rock to Sonny. “Okay, _fuck_ you.”_

_Sonny laughed. “Hear me out! Nobody values you because you’re rough and you grew up on the streets. But you’re something way more valuable that what they see. You’re… the gem of the barrio,” he finished, flourishing his hands with the title. He smiled at Pete, looked down, and handed him the black rock. “And I want you to have this.”_

_“You’re giving me a chunk of asphalt,” Pete said flatly._

_“No, you idiot, I’m giving you the gem of the barrio.”_

_Pete had shook his head smiling and took it._

He looked down at it now, contemplated for a second, and shoved it in his pocket.

There was nothing more of real value in his apartment - nothing more that he could carry, anyway. He grabbed a pen and paper and scrawled out a note, then folded it, put it in his jacket pocket, and shouldered his backpack. He opened his door and took one last look at the now-empty apartment before stepping out and closing the door.

Then he turned, walked out of the building, and hit the road.

#### Sonny

The road widened considerably when they got out of the congested part of the city and Sonny could breathe a little easier.

It’s not like his cab driver was bad, per se, it’s just that he drove like… well, like a cab driver. Sonny just felt safer gripping the door handle very tightly.

There was a free shuttle from campus to the city, where Sonny could catch a taxi that would take him the remaining ten minutes home. During the taxi ride, Sonny would usually listen to music or strike up a conversation with the driver if he was friendly enough. This one seemed nice, but he spoke a language that was definitely not English or Spanish through the cab dispatch. Listening to music it was, then.

The first time he made the commute, Usnavi had driven him down the whole way, but after that he determined he could find his way to and from campus with the shuttles and a taxi cab, and opted for that instead. It was partly for the reason he told his cousin, which was that he was an independent adult who could do such things as ride to school on his own. It was also partly because Usnavi was a worse driver than anyone he’d ever ridden with.

But it was all the better, because it meant that when he got home, he got to see all the people he loved, all at one time. His cousin threw him a coming-home party every hear and practically invited the entire barrio, plus all of his friends that lived right outside of town. They all had a great time and told him how proud they were of him and drank just a bit too much and at the end of the night Pete would always take him to his apartment and show him how much he personally missed him.

And _God,_ was he good at that.

Sonny smiled to himself, watching the city go by. He was so glad they had time to themselves over the summer. He loved talking to everyone, especially Nina, who had so much advice for him, but summer was truly for lazy days and lounging around with someone without feeling the need to speak for hours on end. Pete was that person, and if he could spend every single waking minute with him, he would. Sometimes when he spent the night he found himself unable to sleep because he was too caught up in wondering if it was even possible to love someone this much.

Then Pete would roll over, curl up against him and snore softly and Sonny would realize once again that there was no cap on how many times he could fall in love over and over again.

It was less easy, before, to see him all the time like that. Even when he turned eighteen, Usnavi strictly forbade him from spending the night over there. Sonny never knew exactly what he was trying to prevent, as any activities that may have happened overnight were simply moved to the daytime, but his curfew had been set in stone.

But then, one day they had gone back to Sonny's apartment after whatever it is they had done that day and Pete had Sonny pressed against the wall before the door had even clicked shut. His brain turned to mush so fast he didn’t even have the presence of mind to comprehend how either of them made it to the couch, let alone suggest they move somewhere more private, and Usnavi walked in with the groceries right as Pete found that one miraculous spot above his collarbone with his lips and Sonny made a particularly embarrassing noise. He promptly dropped the plastic bags straight onto the floor and walked out as if he’d seen a ghost.

The day after, a laughing John told Sonny that he was allowed one night a week over at his boyfriend’s apartment and that he would’ve told them himself if he wasn’t hiding in the back room of the bodega.

“But don’t worry,” John had added after seeing the look on Pete’s face. “You didn’t scar him. He ain’t exactly the Virgin Mary he claims to be around y’all.”

He had headed to the back room with a wink.

Sonny smiled again as the GWB came into view. Almost home, he thought. SBU was an entirely different universe from the streets of Washington Heights, and he truly loved it, but nothing could beat coming home and all that it entailed. No matter how many times Pete insisted he should be free to go wherever he wanted, this was always where he ended up, and this would always be where he chose to end up. The barrio, with his family, and with him.

Upon arriving in front of his apartment building, Sonny paid the driver and bid him a good day before he drove away. He turned to the building with his suitcases (the shitload of free shirts he’d gotten in college didn’t fit in just one anymore), took a deep breath of the familiar city air, and headed on up.

“SURPRISE!” Everyone cried as he opened the door to the apartment. It would’ve been a fantastic surprise if they hadn’t been doing it for the past three years.

Still, the thrill on his features was genuine. They were all there for him. Even the ladies at the salon had skipped work to come down.

Usnavi, as usual, wrapped him in a tight hug as soon as he put his bag down. The only sign of the times was that now the two cousins were the same height - Sonny liked to believe he was half an inch taller, actually - and now as soon as he pulled away, a baby was plopped into his arms.

“Hi, Mia!” he cooed, letting her grab his finger with his chubby fist. She exclaimed in delight and shoved it in her mouth. Mia, for some reason, had taken a particular interest with Tio Sonny.

“Nina! Benny!”

“Welcome back, Son,” Benny replied, while Nina just beamed with pride at him.

He greeted everyone else - John, Vanessa, Daniela and Carla, Angelica, Lafayette, Hercules, Adrienne, little Theo, Georges, and Peggy - sharing smiles and hugs with Mia still in his arms.

“How was the drive over?” Usnavi asked, hugging him for the second time, and Mia giggled inside of the De La Vega sandwich. If Sonny ever had a baby, it would have to be as happy as this one.

“It was fine. The cab driver was a little sketchy, but I’m here alive. Where’s Pete?”

The room fell silent as if someone had flipped a switch.

“What’s happening?”

“Three minutes and forty-two seconds,” Peggy mused, checking her watch. “A new record.”

“New record for what? Why is everyone all quiet?”

Usnavi laughed, but there was definitely something off about it. “For how long you can go without asking for him. C’mon, man, you got your whole family here and that’s the first thing-”

“Usnavi, you have to tell him,” Vanessa interjected, her face indecipherable. Sonny looked around: Carla and Daniela were also impossible to read, Benny was smiling, but it seemed different, and Nina was tactfully not meeting his eyes.

“Tell me what? ‘Navi, you’re scaring me. Where is he?”

Usnavi seemed to hesitate for a second, then responded with another supposed-to-be-easy smile. “He’s fine, don’t worry ‘bout that now. We just got you back, and-”

“Usnavi,” John cut in quietly, giving him a look that certainly meant Something, though Sonny for the life of him couldn’t figure out what.

His cousin looked back for a long moment, and then sighed heavily as if he’d lost the argument. Reluctantly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a white folded-up note. Benny stepped up to take Mia back as Sonny reached for it.

“He wanted you to read this,” Usnavi said. “But you don’t have to right now, because while we’re all here you might as well-”

Sonny didn’t hear the rest of what he said, because he read the note, crumpled it, and ran out the door.

His feet pounded the streets and he received strange looks from onlookers as he passed, but Sonny couldn’t care less. His mind was focused only on one thing and it echoed with every step he took.

_No. No. No. No._

No. Pete couldn’t leave him. He knew that was Sonny’s worst, most persistent fear - the one that kept him up at night at school. He wouldn’t put him through that.

But everyone acting different had planted the seed in his mind and now the idea had taken root. He remembered, too, Pete’s hesitance the last time they saw each other. He said something about letting him go and Sonny had been scared shitless at the mere prospect of leaving without knowing if they’d be together when he came back. He thought he’d made the point clear that he was in no way a hindrance to Sonny; in fact, he was just the opposite. But what if he didn’t?

The note contained a single location that was now drawing very near, which gave him the little assurance that Pete hadn’t just left without a trace.

_But if he isn’t there,_ Sonny thought, _it might’ve been easier if he hadn’t left anything at all._

He pushed the thought away as he found the right alley, barreled down it, took a left at the end and stopped in his tracks.

It was if he had just run into a different time. Surrounding him, on all three sides, from the ground to about 20 feet high, was the cityscape at night. He could make out his apartment building, and the bodega, and the salon, and even the fire escapes against the windows. The GWB, lit in gold lights, stood among them. Above it all was the most spectacular sky he’d ever seen: what must’ve been hundreds of stars filled the blackness, and among them were dazzling bursts of fireworks, leaving trails of color and reflecting off the metal of the buildings.

“You like it?” a voice from behind him asked, and he felt his entire spirit lift.

“Pete!” he cried, whirling around and attacking the man in a rib-crushing hug.

“Hey, Sonshine,” he murmured back into his hair.

“Oh my God, I missed you, man. I thought you-” Sonny broke off abruptly, fearing for a moment that putting the idea out there would make it possible, and changed tactic. “Never mind. This wall is amazing. Beautiful. There are no words.”

“Thank you,” Pete replied, breaking away. “Sorry I couldn’t make it to your party, I had, uh… a lot of work to finish.”

He gestured to the wall. There was something odd in his look, a sort of tension in his posture that wasn’t normally present. He almost seemed on-edge, as if - Sonny’s stomach did a flip - as if he was ready to take off at any moment.

Dread returned, but it wasn’t nearly as potent as the determination that came with it. At least if Pete tried to take leave now, Sonny would be there. Unlike when he was half an hour away, now he wasn’t powerless to stop it.

“Is this for a commission?” He asked, turning to face the wall again and squeezing Pete’s hand tightly.

He noticed his palm was sweaty. He squeezed harder.

“No. It’s for you,” Pete replied quietly.

The statement nearly made his heart burst with happiness. A tiny part of him, though, spoke even louder.

_It’s a parting gift._

“You made this for me?” he asked, trying to ignore it.

“Yeah. It’s your home.”

“Our home,” Sonny corrected.

“And all that-” Pete continued, ignoring him and pointing at the night sky- “Is yours. It’s because of you.”

Sonny looked up at the fireworks.

“That one, over the school bus stop-” Pete pointed to it, flashing purple and gold- “That’s where I met you. Remember that? You made the bus driver take me home because refused to let me walk. And that one, by the bodega, that’s where you kissed me that first time. I was so scared I fucked everything up during the blackout, but then you kissed me back after Abuela Claudia’s mural was done and I finally felt like I did something right. That one, over the bodega, that’s where I first realized I was in love with you.”

Sonny couldn’t speak.

“And there are so much more,” Pete continued, pointing to them all. “There’s your murals you commissioned, and that’s where your outreach center’s gonna be. You make this whole place brighter every time you change someone’s life. And by the time you’re done here, there’ll be more fireworks than there are stars in the sky.”

Somewhere along the line Pete’s hand had slipped out of his grasp and Sonny had stepped closer to the walls.

“But I realized that if the world’s gonna be as bright as it could be, there can’t be nothin’ keeping you from doing it.”

There it was. The beginning of the end. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the panic start to rise up in him. He heard movement behind him and made to look, but felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t turn around, Sonny, please.”

Pete’s voice was shaky, and though Sonny obeyed him, he felt like crying.

“Pete, listen,” he half-pleaded, staring up at the fireworks. “I promised you I’d always come back to you. You said it - this is my home.”

“I know,” Pete responded, his voice so quiet it was almost a whisper. “And I realized that if you promised to always come back, then I should promise to always be here when you do.”

Wait. That was different. That wasn’t Earth-shattering. Unable to resist any longer, Sonny whirled around and his hand flew up to his mouth.

Pete was bent down on one knee, looking up at him with wide eyes. In one shaking hand was a silver ring.

“Sonny, will you marry me?”

And suddenly, everything clicked. Pete wasn’t going away, he was sticking it out. He was making sure Sonny could do everything he wanted without worrying about coming back because they would always be in it together. The nerves were just Pete being Pete.

“Yes!” he cried, crushing him in a hug again. He heard a breathy laugh in his ear and Pete picked them both up, spinning him around.

“Oh my God,” Sonny laughed, looking at his face. There he saw a joy that equaled his own and in that moment there was nothing wrong in the entire world. “You scared me so much, I thought you were going to leave,” he breathed, hugging him again.

“Leave?”

“Yeah,” Sonny replied, his arms slung around Pete’s neck as he looked up at him sheepishly. “Like, leave town and not come back. Y’know, so I wouldn’t have to worry about us when I was gone.”

Pete looked at him, concerned for a second, then smiled. He grabbed Sonny’s hands in his own and held them close to his chest.

“I ain’t leavin’ you, Sonny. If you love somebody, you stay and you figure it out and you make it better together. A boy taught me that a while ago.”

His little half-smile was just too much. Sonny stood up on his tiptoes (so he would probably always have to stand on his toes to reach Pete’s mouth, sue him) and pressed their lips together, and even though he was smiling too much for it to be a proper kiss, he still felt the fireworks. He always would.

Pete broke away first, albeit reluctantly, and procured the ring again. “Here,” he said, sliding it onto Sonny’s finger. “To make it… y’know. Official.”

Sonny watched it slide on and stared up at Pete, grinning like an idiot. Pete just grinned back.

“Oh!” he finally said after a long moment, stepping away and nearly skipping over to his backpack in the corner. “I got one more thing to do. Step back a little.”

Sonny obeyed and Pete proceeded to attack the ground where they were standing with spray paint.

Because of course he would.

Sonny smiled to himself and examined his ring. It was a simple gleaming silver band with some sort of black iridescent stone inlaid through the center. He had to admit, he was rather captivated by the way it faintly shone different colors as he tilted it back and forth.

“This is a nice-ass ring. How did you afford this?”

“You act like I ain’t got nothin’ in the bank,” Pete scoffed. “Nah, you’re right. I sold a bunch of my shit to get it made, but it was worth it.”

Sonny laughed. “What kinda stone is this? In the middle?” he asked, cutting off the hiss of spray cans for a moment. Pete looked up at him and smiled innocently.

“I thought you would recognize it. You’re the one who gave it to me.”

He tried to recall a time he might’ve given Pete any precious item worth anything, and honestly couldn’t. Really, the only thing he ever gave him that was remotely close to a stone was-

His jaw dropped and he examined the ring again.

“Pete, did you propose to me with a _chunk of asphalt?_”

“No, you idiot,” he replied, smirking. “I proposed to you with the gem of the barrio.”

“You fuckin’-” Sonny laughed, running at him to punch him, or maybe kiss him, or both, but Pete leapt up and stopped him in his tracks.

“Waiwaiwait, paint’s still wet,” he said quickly.

On the ground in front of them was a giant firework, the kind that explodes in a shower of gold and disappears in a shimmer. It was brighter than all the rest, absence of the night sky behind it notwithstanding, and its center was right where they had been standing.

Another firework. If Sonny could picture what his heart looked like at that moment, it would be something very similar.

He smiled up at Pete, who beamed back. And in that wide smile he saw something he’d never seen before: there was pride. For the first time in Pete’s life, he let himself be proud of what he’d done. And, Sonny thought, he ought to be proud more often. The man was radiant.

“Let’s get you back,” he said, still smiling but shouldering his backpack. “Usnavi said to have you home quick so you could enjoy his party.”

“So he knew about this?”

“‘Course he did. He’d skin me alive if I did it without his blessing.”

Sonny shook his head disbelievingly, partly at the fact that Usnavi had kept a secret and partly at the fact that Pete was still afraid of him.

“C’mon,” Pete said again, holding out his hand.

”Wait-”

Sonny grabbed his hand and pulled him backward, then threw his arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. Pete sighed into his lips and fit his arms securely around Sonny’s waist, keeping them there. It always amazed him how well they fit together, like every curve and contour was made to rest against its counterpart. They fit together so well that passers-by would’ve only seen one silhouette, right in the center of a curiously vivid firework spray-painted on the concrete.

Later on the would return to the apartment to be met with cries of joy. Later on Sonny would have to face a crying Usnavi and death threats from Daniela if he ever dared hurt Pete (she’d taken an unusual liking to him these past four years). Later on they would return to this spot and Pete would giggle at all the gold footprints they made while Sonny frantically apologized for ignoring him and making them stand in wet paint. Later on he would leave Washington Heights for his last year at SBU and make it the best year he’d ever had. He would get his degree in Political Science and run the LGBTQ+ club and help the community and every once in a while, he would be running donations or writing essays and he would smile because he caught sight of the iridescent band on his ring finger.

But they were in no rush to get to any of that. Because whether he was at the apartment with his family or at the bodega or 11 miles away at school or in the middle of a giant firework, Pete was with him. He would always be with him.

And when he was with him, he was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TEEhee


	4. John and Usnavi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And finally, we conclude, as we began, with a bodega. Its occupants have always been a little slow at getting their shit together. Has anything changed in four years? We shall see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter bois let's goooooo

#### John

If you were to ask how John’s life was going, he would say it was fan-fuckin’-tastic.

His dad and everything related to him was long gone, for starters. His sister Martha was the sole resident of the Laurens Manor - well, perhaps sole wasn’t entirely correct. Most of the cooks and servants remained under her care. So did Thalia, the old home-care nurse. She wasn’t there on service, though. She was Martha’s girlfriend.

And so the Laurens family inheritance was split equally among the four kids: some for Martha to take care of the house, her girlfriend and the sprouting care-home business she was starting, some for Polly to pursue her career as a chef, some for James to go to grad school and some for John to quit the lawyer act and take a vet tech internship at the downtown aquarium.

His dad would’ve hated everything is money was doing.

John loved it.

The only drawback of the missing income was that John’s apartment was no longer funded, but really, that was of no consequence since he practically lived with Usnavi, anyway. All they had to do was make the move-in official, and voila, problem solved.

Home life was amazing, too. He lived with Usnavi and little Theo in their apartment. Every morning the three of them would walk to the bodega and open up for the early morning customers before school. Then John would walk her the three blocks to elementary school and take a cab to the aquarium. Little Theo was damn brilliant. He didn’t know exactly what Burr did, but this kid was easily the top of her fourth-grade class. Her teachers raved about her at parent-teacher conferences. She devoured books like they were her only sustenance. She calculated change for the bodega customers almost as fast as John could punch the numbers into the cash register. When they got her a pet turtle for Christmas (okay, who was he kidding, the turtle was mostly for him), she flew off to the school library and returned saying they needed to go to the pet store and buy at 10-gallon tank, turtle pellets, cuttlebone, a UVA/UVB heat lamp, a carbon water filter and a floating basking log. She also named him Philip.

They visited her father every other weekend as per federal prison rules. Burr seemed drained of all life every time they went, but every time he saw his daughter his face lit up. He always said he was doing just fine, and that the doctors were really making him feel better. The other prisoners were delighted by her appearance, too. Maybe it was because they had never before encountered an eight-year-old that seemed so unafraid of hardened criminals. John vividly remembered the image of a tall, burly man in an orange jumpsuit with a tattoo of a spade above his eyebrow and a single tear rolling down his cheek as Theo gave him a high-five through the bulletproof tinted glass.

“One day you’ll understand, Theo,” Burr always said at the end of the visits. “Why I had to come here. And why I’m not coming out anytime soon. And you may not want to come back when you finally do. I’ll understand. But I’ll always be your dad and I’ll always love you, no matter what.”

Theo would nod and press her palm to his, separated by an inch of plexiglass.

“I love you, too, dad.”

John had a feeling that she already understood. Perhaps even more than her dad did.

On weekends they would take her over to Abuela Claudia’s old apartment, where Martha Washington now resided. The woman was a godsend when it came to babysitting, especially when John and Usnavi needed the day off. Theo wasn’t a tiresome kid by any means, but sometimes they just wanted time to themselves. They’d drop her off at Martha’s where Mia and Georges often hung out, and left her to play there. Martha was always thrilled to have them. John guessed a part of her always wanted kids, even though a life with George made that impossible. Her husband would’ve been happy to see her like that, sitting on a rocking chair with baby Mia wrapped up in her quilt and Georges and Theo curled up around her napping.

While Theo was away, John and Usnavi would run the bodega for a couple of hours for their regular customers. They would close up early and walk around town for a while or maybe just go home and make dinner. Really, they just enjoyed each other’s company.

They had gotten engaged just about a year after Theo came from the agency, simply because there was no point in waiting for anything else. They already had everything they needed.

Usnavi was the one who proposed one night at Abuela’s Restaurante. They were surrounded by their friends and family who all cheered when John said yes. The man was a nervous, fumbling mess and he only stopped shaking when John grabbed his hand and promised to hold it for the rest of the night.

Yes, life was fan-fuckin’-tastic. Except for one thing.

Benny had proposed to Nina the year after. Six months later, they were married in a beautiful wedding. Mia was born. James Madison and Thomas Jefferson moved south to Virginia (a fact that made Usnavi happier than it probably should’ve). Lafayette and Adrienne got their citizenship and bought an apartment, a nice one, in the Bronx. A few days ago, Pete had walked in, looked Usnavi dead in the eye, and asked for his blessing to marry Sonny. Even frickin’ Theo announced one day after school that she had gotten married under the playground slide at recess.

All this, and he and Usnavi were still just engaged.

It wasn’t for lack of effort on either of their parts. They were just facing a lot of challenges along the way, and progress had slowed to a standstill. He didn’t know if it was because they were both guys, but the clerk they were going through was being a giant dick about the whole thing. He glared at them all the time they were there, and the first time he “lost” John’s birth certificate. The second time, he demanded that Usnavi be tested for some disease that was apparently supposed to be screened in Latin-Americans. That process took months in itself, and the clerk dragged his feet in approving the bloodwork. When they finally went back for the final time, he was grinning smugly and they knew there would, again, be no certificate waiting for them.

Sure enough, he had printed out for them a list of discrepancies in their application. First of all, he had found John’s death certificate in South Carolinian files (which, John reasoned, was his dad’s last ‘fuck you’ to the fact that he was gay). He also went through the long, arduous process of verifying Usnavi’s birth certificate by cross-checking hospital records in the Dominican Republic in the 1980s (which seemed like a lot of fucking work for a dude that took three months to get Usnavi’s bloodwork on file) and found that the certificate was “falsely approved by the government,” because there was “no Usnavy Dee la Veega-” yes, pronounced just like that- “born there in recent history.”

John had to pull them both out of there before one of them punched the clerk in the face.

And so there they remained, halfway between solitude and solidarity, while all around them everyone grew up and moved in together and got closer than the two of them ever would.

He was currently running the cash register at the bodega. It was a Saturday morning, Theo was at Martha’s, and he had the weekend off from the aquarium. The store was empty and Usnavi was occupied somewhere in the back, leaving John to flick a penny back and forth over the counter for entertainment.

The bell chimed and Sonny walked in, smiling as always. John flicked the penny again and watched it fall to the floor and roll under a shelf.

“Mornin, Sonny,” he greeted.

Usnavi’s head popped out from the back room. “Well, if it isn’t my little cousin. I thought you’d stopped acknowledging our existence?”

Sonny grinned. “I have not. I come in every morning, y’know. Just because I sleep somewhere else doesn’t mean I forgot about you.”

Usnavi had been quite reluctant to let his little cousin move out, even though they still saw him every day and he was living on his own at SBU, anyway.

“So what brings you here this fine morning?” John asked, stopping their familiar banter before it continued on forever. If there was one thing he learned about the De la Vegas in his five-year stay, it’s that they could _talk_.

“Stopped in for some waters,” he replied, taking three from the fridge. “It’s hot out and Pete’s trying to fry himself doing a commission.”

“You never just come in to say hi anymore,” Usnavi complained good-naturedly, coming over to the counter. “Stop growin’ up so fast.”

Sonny stuck out his tongue and meandered over to the chip aisle. “Alright. We’ll just stop in to say hi at your place for dinner, then?”

“You tryna steal our food?”

“You got me,” he replied, grinning. “Don’t get me wrong, I love Pete, but I can’t live off of Campbell’s Chicken Noodle Soup forever.”

“That’s up to John, then, if he wants to feed you. I gotta be down… town… tonight…”

Usnavi trailed off in disbelief as Sonny walked up to the counter, dumped his stuff down, and pulled out a ten-dollar bill. John just stared in silence.

“What are you doing,?” Usnavi asked, his voice tinged with awe. 

“Well, I’m _tryna_ buy my stuff, but your cashier isn’t cooperating very well.”

John jumped into action and started ringing up the items.

“You… you mean, you’re-” Usnavi shook his head in disbelief. “You’re _paying_ for my merchandise?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Sonny laughed, shoving him over the counter. “I can be financially responsible. You want the money or not?”

“Dude, being engaged has _changed_ you,” Usnavi replied, snatching up the bill before Sonny could go through on his threat. “That’s - look at you, all grown up.”

Sonny just shook his head, smiling despite himself. “You’re too sentimental, cuz.”

“You’re too old.”

“Whatever. You’re older.”

The cousins grinned at each other while John finished packing up his stuff. Sonny took it, threw his change in the tip jar (which sent Usnavi into shock again) and saluted before heading to the door.

“See you later, cuz. And John - seriously, whether you like it or not, we’ll be there for dinner tonight.”

“Sure thing,” he replied before Sonny was gone.

“That kid,” Usnavi murmured amusedly to himself, smiling idly. “I guess I can’t even call him a kid anymore.” He looked at John. “They’re growing up too fast, huh?”

Suddenly all John could imagine was Sonny and Pete’s wedding. The walls would all be painted and everyone would be wearing different colors. Usnavi would be tearing up as he gave his little cousin away, saying the exact same thing.

_“They’re growing up too fast, huh?”_

Yeah, they were. They would all be gone and moved on. And there would be John and Usnavi, unmoving, stagnant.

“You okay?” Usnavi tried again, studying his face.

John realized he’d been fazed out and recomposed his face into his best smile. “‘M fine.”

Still, Usnavi stared at him concernedly, biting his lip. “C’mere.”

He grabbed John’s wrist and pulled him toward the back room, closing the door behind them. Then he turned, grabbed both his hands, and looked him straight in the eye.

“What’s wrong?”

John shrugged. “Nothin’, really,” he tired to say as convincingly as possible.

“Something’s up. You haven’t been acting normal since Sonny came back. What happened?”

John didn’t know he had shown his preoccupations that much. Granted, Usnavi was especially good at knowing how he felt, but still.

John sighed in frustration, looking away. Usnavi was going to beat it out of him one way or another, but that didn’t make talking about it any less hard.

“Do you think Sonny and Pete’ll get married before we do?” he asked in a small voice.

There was a heavy silence, but John couldn’t see his partner’s reaction because he was purposefully staring at the ground.

“Do you not want them to?” Usnavi finally asked hesitantly.

“No, no,” John replied quickly, looking up to ensure his sincerity. “I’m happy for them, I really am. It’s just…” he trailed off, looking back at the ground.

“...Everyone is getting married faster than we are,” Usnavi finished quietly.

He lifted his gaze again, and Usnavi was staring at him with just a hint of sadness in his eyes.

“...Yeah.”

His partner gave him the smallest of smiles and a tiny hand squeeze. “Well, just you wait. It’s ‘cuz the universe is saving the best for last.”

John grinned. “I know, I know.”

Silence.

His smile faded as he stared and allowed himself to think more about them than he had done previously. “...But what if the best never comes?”

Usnavi gazed at him concernedly and sighed.

“I know, I’m sorry. But we’re trying, and progress is slow, but that doesn’t mean-”

“Progress isn’t _slow_ anymore, Usnavi,” John interjected, pulling his hands out from Usnavi’s and pacing the room. “Progress is _stopped._ I know you’re trying, and I know it’s not your fault. It’s neither of our faults. But as far of the county of New York City goes, I’m dead and you were never born. How are we gonna get past that one? And if we do, what are we gonna face next? Because you know as well as I do that that goddamn man is just gonna find somethin’ else wrong with this - wrong with _us._ It doesn’t matter how legal this is. Marrying you is still _impossible.”_

Another silence.

“Impossible for now,” Usnavi said after a moment. “You’re right. But that doesn’t mean we should stop fighting. Because it won’t be impossible forever, I promise you that. You _know_ that. It’s what you fought for in the war, and in South Carolina. You’ve been fighting the impossible your whole life, and that’s one of the things I always admired about you. You’re willing to fight for something, even if you don’t live to see success.”

He finally looked Usnavi in the eye, thinking it over. He’d fought for many things, it was true. He fought with General Washington, although his father withdrew him before he got to see surrender. He fought for his South Carolinian battalion, which consisted of all the people of color and transgender soldiers that would’ve otherwise never been able to gain respect in serving their country. But that battalion had dissipated quickly after the war was over. He had fought for this - they both had fought so, _so_ hard for this, and they could very well never get it.

But someone else would. He knew because he bore the fruit of the battles that came before him. He owed it to someone before for the right to fight in the first place. He knew it was because of the people who never stopped fighting that he was able to even hold Usnavi’s hand as they walked down the street. They fought for themselves, but more than anything, they fought for him, and his generation. And he had to be able to be that brave and that selfless in order to continue their fight. In order to make a better world for Mia and Georges and Little Theo.

“And we won’t stop fighting,” he finally said.

Usnavi smiled, and although it held a touch of sadness for all their lost battles, he knew the man was in it with him.

“You’ll be alright too, then?” John asked him. “If this never happens for us?”

“I will.”

He sounded so sincere that tears nearly came to John’s eyes. Usnavi was effortlessly brave and compassionate and selfless. He committed, without hesitation, to a lifetime of fighting, even if he wasn’t sure he’d see the outcome. He was everything John really needed, seeing as he’d barely convinced himself of the same thing.

“You are. It really amazes me,” John said, looking him straight in the eye, “that you can care so much and still be okay with not knowing if you’ll ever have it. I love that. I love you.”

Usnavi stared back, concern in his features.

Perhaps he’d sensed John’s hesitations. Perhaps he’d heart the little crack in John’s voice when he said ‘I love you,’ and knew it was because loving him was something he shouldn’t have to fight for. Either way, he was silent for a long moment. He finally looked down and took both of John’s hands in his, slowly rubbing his thumb across his gold engagement band.

“Do you know what they call engaged people in Spanish?” he finally said, looking up again.

“No?”

“_Prometido._ In English the literal translation is ‘promised’,” he continued, pulling John a step closer and holding his hands firmly in between them. “It means I promised myself to you then, and now, and forever. I promise that I’ll be here for you as long as I’m able to. It means that I may not know what’ll happen with us when we’re old and sickly, or in ten years, or even tomorrow, but I promise that the piece of my heart that you managed to steal from me will always belong to you. And there is no marriage certificate, no piece of paper, no possible combination of words more powerful than the actions that I have promised to do to convince you, every single day, that I love you.”

John stared. Usnavi gazed back earnestly with that look he always had, that look that made it seem like John had hung the stars in the sky.

“That’s why I can fight,” he continued. “Because for whoever comes next, it’s truly a battle. And they need us. But for us, right now, I know we’ve already won.”

He squeezed John’s hands. John looked down at them, taking in their matching gold bands.

“You always had a way with words,” he finally replied. Usnavi smiled, and so did John.

Maybe they wouldn’t ever get married. And maybe that was okay. Usnavi was right. John wanted union, he wanted the satisfaction of calling the man he loved his husband. But what was a single word compared to a lifetime of actually loving him?

Usnavi brought him closer, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind his ear. His hand rested on John’s cheek, lightly tracing freckles with his thumb. It was something he usually did in the early mornings, when they were still curled up together in bed. Usnavi would stare at him adoringly and trace the freckles down his cheek, across his chest, down his arms.

Moments like that made him love him more and more every day. Moments like that would not stop just because they couldn’t get some certificate saying they could. John took his face in his hands and pulled him in for a kiss. Usnavi sighed happily into it, sliding his hands to rest of John’s chest. He deepened the kiss, tilting his head so they could fit closer together. Usnavi’s hands slid from John’s chest, down his sides, and under his shirt to sit warm and happy on his bare hips as they kissed again and again and again. They finally broke away, a bit winded from being so close for so long, and John rested his forehead against Usnavi’s, making the man laugh lightly.

This is why he did it. This was why he fought. But it was also why he could be okay with not winning this battle. Because when it was all over, he wouldn’t remember the pain and struggles and that dickhead clerk from the office. Those memories were for people who carried on their war. But they would only remember being in love and tracing freckles under warm covers and kissing until they were breathless. He would feel the spark of happiness when their friends referred to them as ‘John and Usnavi’ like they were one item. He would remember the rush of fighting for something he wholeheartedly believed in with his best friend at his side.

And that was more than enough for one lifetime.

#### Usnavi

Contrary to popular belief, Usnavi wasn’t an idiot.

All that _prometido_ stuff? Yeah, no, that was bullshit. There was no fucking point in getting engaged and not married. That was like making yourself a coffee and then not drinking it because you already know it’s good. You can piss in a cup and convince yourself it’s good if you don’t drink it.

And besides, Usnavi knew just how much it meant to John to get married. It wasn’t just about being together - because God knows they did that quite enough. Getting married meant proving to himself that he could fight for what he wanted, and he could win. It meant finally stepping out of his awful father’s shadow and being his own man, doing what he wanted to do, and loving who he wanted to love. And if there was anything John deserved, it was that.

Which was why he was going downtown that very night. The “downtown” part was actually a lie, but he’d had to say it so John wouldn’t ask questions. He’d called a cab, asked to get to Greenwich, Connecticut, and was on his way.

He’d gotten the idea as soon as John came home one night all excited because he’d gotten a space in the aquarium’s work-study exchange program. Participants flew up to work at the Bruce Museum’s ocean exhibit for three weeks. They struggled a bit with the logistics of it all, Usnavi and Theo both wanting to go up with him. In the end it was decided that John would just go by himself.

That, too, was a little lie.

Marriage laws varied from state to state. In New York, at least one of them had to be a resident, which wasn’t a problem. The problem was their asshole clerk who was insisting that John was dead (“it’s illegal to get married if you’re deceased,” he’d said smugly) and that Usnavi’s birth certificate was fake. Which, fuck off, government.

Connecticut, though, was different. Neither of them had to have Connecticut residency to file a marriage application. Nor did Latin-Americans need bloodwork to be approved. The only prerequisites were that one person needed to be there to file it, both of them had to sign it, and they had to remain in state for at least 36 hours.

Check, check, and check.

“Hello there,” the clerk greeted him as he walked through the door. “You must be Usnavi.”

“That’s me,” he greeted, shaking the jovial man’s hand.

“Here to get married?”

“To start the process, at least.”

“Right. Do you have all the required paperwork?”

Usnavi procured a file folder from his bag, where he had been secretly collecting all his and John’s necessary papers. “Yep, all here.”

The clerk flipped through it quickly, nodding. He looked up and grinned. “Looks good. All you’re missing is a spouse.”

Usnavi beamed. “The spouse’ll be here this weekend. I wanted to get as much as I could done today and kinda surprise him with it when he gets here.”

The man nodded, clicking through his computer. “Sure thing. I’m sure you know that in the State of Connecticut, both parties have to be present to complete the process, and there’s a holding period of 36 hours after the license is issued?”

“Yessir.”

The man looked up and smiled.

“Perfect. Let’s get started.

The entire process took about 30 minutes, which was probably something like nine thousand percent faster than the time they’d been working at it in New York. The clerk didn’t even seem to mind that he was marrying two men, which Usnavi had expected to happen after he read a news article about another same-sex couple getting married there just a week earlier. They were fighting the good fight, and they were slowly winning.

With a handshake and a smile, he left the building feeling lighter than air. When the work-study period came, Usnavi would pack a pair of suits and drive up again. John, having gone with his group, would be sent by his supervisor down to the clerk’s office, where Usnavi would be waiting with a marriage certificate. With two signatures, the three-year-long battle would be won.

They would honeymoon in Connecticut, when John wasn’t working, of course. The ceremony would happen when they flew back home, and thanks to the girls, most of the preparations had been done already. Benny had taken an online course and was now a certified marriage officiant. The venue was the Catholic Church downtown, where Abuela Claudia’s funeral had been. Abuela’s Restaurante was catering the event. Vanessa was Usnavi’s self-appointed Best Woman, and John chose Lafayette as his best man via “hypothetical” conversation. Hercules Mulligan declared he would be co-flower girl with Theo.  
He hopped in a taxi back home and nearly smiled the whole way out of Connecticut. He would’ve, too, if there hadn’t been one more order of business to complete.

He pulled out a black wooden box from his bag and held it carefully on his lap, stroking the intricate engraving fondly with his thumb. He then retrieved a rolled-up piece of paper and pen and began to write.

_My dearest B,_

_Words simply cannot express how much gratitude and longing fills me when I think of you. Would that I could, I would have you by my side this very second and prove that the love you have given me and the love I hold for you are still very much a part of me. That, I think, will never, ever diminish. No matter how you insist that I move on, that I remain happy without you by my side, I will miss you. It is simply contradictory, my dearest, to know that someone is gone and not yearn for the times when they were there. But do not worry for a second, my love. It has taken me a while, admittedly a lot longer than it should’ve, but I am happy. You told me to go find my John, and in that I have succeeded - literally, I found my actual, real John._

_I write this now because I know you’ll be happy to read it, and nothing left on Earth gives me more joy than telling it to you. Anyhow, John has granted me much more than happiness. He’s given me peace._

_We fight, without a doubt: against each other, against everyone around us, against the wrongs of the society we live in. You, better than anyone, understand that my life will always be a fight. His will be, too. But those fights don’t define our legacy. How much we win and lose will not wholly dictate how our story is told. We can plant seeds in a garden, sure, but whoever tends to it after we’re gone determines what grows._

_Which brings me to this, my Eliza: as apathetic as you present yourself on the subject, I must tell you what has become of your legacy. It is beautiful, nearly indescribably so. Your orphanage is running on all cylinders in the city, and it’s already changed so many lives. My cousin is expanding its reach through community centers, the first of which will be right where we live. Your sisters love and miss you, and they pay us a visit nearly every day. When the center is done they’ll have a hand in running it the way only a true Schuyler could. Even if it wasn’t your intention, you’ve truly changed lives. People smile as they pass the building in construction across the bodega because of you. I’ve found love and happiness and peace even after I thought it could never again be possible. That’s because of you._

_And so all the well wishes you’ve bestowed onto me, I give to you times a thousand. Whether you’re watching from the stars or somewhere removed from the mortality of this world altogether, I wish you eternal bliss. It’s no less than you deserve. And until I meet you on the other side, I hope you find persons already there with which to share your undying compassion and love. Perhaps you’ll even find Abuela Claudia there. Perhaps she won’t even be Abuela anymore, relieved of the ailing body and rickety joints adorned by souls of the wise. In any case, you two would get along very well.  
Adieu, my Eliza. As per your wishes I will take my time in reuniting with you. Until then, I won’t wish that we’ll both be uncountably happy. Because I have faith that we will._

_Yours forever,_

_Alexander_

Usnavi smiled and folded up the paper, slipping it gently into the dark wooden box. He closed the lid and stroked it affectionately with his thumb for a moment before putting it back in his bag. He turned to the window.

In six short weeks, just six, he would be marrying the love of his life. Said man would be pursuing the career he’d wanted since he was a little boy. His wonderful Eliza would have the fruits of her labor come to light. By no means would life ever be perfect, or compete. There was always something else to do. It might only be perfect once he joined Eliza and Abuela Claudia wherever they were now, and he certainly wanted to wait a little in that case. But in six weeks he was gonna be as close to that as one could get.

A part of him wanted to screw the six weeks, do it all today. He could go home and tell John what he’d just done. They could pack everything right then and there and go back up, stay the required 3 days, and be married by the end of the week.

But another part of him knew he was going to wait. Because he could. Because they’d both worked so hard and time was the first fruit of their labors. Because every time a fleeting thought came to him about speeding it up, he looked to the sky and heard the voices of the ones he left up there and smiled.

_Paciencia y fe, Usnavi. It’s only a matter of time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOOM KANANI
> 
> That officially OFFICIALLY concludes the Washington Heights Project! I'd like to personally and profusely thank everyone who's ever read, kudos-ed, commented, or so much as had a fleeting thought about this massive conglomeration of words! To be completely honest this work was birthed one day when I told my friend about an idea of mine and she said it was the stupidest thing she's ever heard. I decided to write it out of pure spite (and in case you were wondering, we're no longer friends lol) and lo and behold, here we are! It's given me so much joy to know that people seem to have enjoyed the ride and I cannot emphasize enough how grateful I am for all of you! If you ever wanna talk, or need a beta, or wanna yell at me, or anything at all, LEMME KNOW!
> 
> <3

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I am eternally grateful for you, right now, reading this. :)


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